


There Is No Right Way, But There's Plenty of Wrong Ways

by LizardOnIce27



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardOnIce27/pseuds/LizardOnIce27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon avoids everyone for a while, hiding out in his apartment with enough beer to forget about Ryan. Eventually, Patrick decides to put a stop to the drinking, afraid to see Brendon get as bad as he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Over.

I hate Patrick Stump.

Everyone else was content with giving me the space I _need_ right now. But he barges right into my apartment with the key he took from Spencer, and is currently wasting all of my booze down the sink. I'll give him this though, he's good. He's gotten the bottles that I've hidden in the oddest of places. I guess he's been through this with Pete. 

"Dude that shit wasn't cheap." I cross my arms, standing back not trying to stop him anymore. The busted lip from him was enough persuasion to just let him. I can always buy more when he leaves.

"It's basically going the same place it'd end up anyways. I'd pour them down your toilet but I don't trust your cleaning skills." He empties the last one down the drain.

I rub my sore jaw, "You punch Pete during this too?"

"I've punched Pete lots of times, but never for excessive drinking." the last bottle clangs against the others as he tosses it into the trash.

"The who hid beer in their laundry baskets?" I ask curiously. He's not psychic, so how'd he know? 

His eyes meet mine for a moment, "Me." His eyes quickly dart away.

My eyes widen, "Wait, what? You hypocrite! You're throwing out my shit when you do the same thing?"

"Did, past tense." His voice remains calm.

"Well good for you, you got your shit together so eventually, I will too." I huff, crossing my arms, "So you're free to leave."

Patrick smirks, unimpressed, "Your ego and arrogance don't intimidate me, kid. My best friend is the biggest egomaniac in existence. I might seem like the kind of guy that you can push around, but that's a mistake few people make more than once. Go shower, you smell like stale beer and old pizza."

"Actually, I need to get more beer now that I'm out. You can let yourself out." I reach into my pockets for my keys, then look around to see where I might've put them. I stop looking when I hear them jingling. I turn to see Patrick holding them up, "Did you take them out of my pocket?"

He nods, "Pickpockets are seriously underrated. Very useful skill. Shower. You have to smell yourself."

I roll my eyes and go to the bathroom and undressing. Can't he just leave me alone? I'm not even that bad, I just need a few days of sobriety avoidance. I wash my hair and my mind slips into the room of forbidden Ryan thoughts in my mind. No. Anything else, think of anything else. Not him. Not him leaving. Think about anything else. Baboons. Trees. Grass. Fall. Sweaters. Ryan-no. Leaves... he left-no. Ice cream. Pumpkins. Coffee...Ryan's mouth tastes like coffee. No. Not Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.

"No!" I pull at my hair. 

The bathroom door opens, "Brendon?"

I take in a breathe before snapping, "I don't need help showering."

"No, I know... just, I'm not coming off as very sympathetic and and I just...I am, okay?" He speaks so softly I can barely hear him over the water.

"Uh, yeah. Naked, get out." I hear him sigh before the door closes.

I finish my shower quickly, throwing on clothes before storming through the apartment to find him. I get a glance of him in the kitchen, "I don't need your sympathy, if that's what this is you can just leave."

He turns to me, holding a spatula, "I respect you too much to let you wallow in booze and misery. How do you like your eggs?"

"You...over easy." The rest of my angry rant trails off.

He smiles, "I can do that." He turns and cracks an egg. 

"Look, Patrick I...appreciate you checking up on me, but I just need a few days to process half of my band leaving." I look down and shrug.

"I gave you a few days. Now I'm here to help you stop relying on alcohol to be okay. And please don't play dumb. This is about Ryan more than anything."

The name stings, makes me want to cringe, "Ryan and I were just a fling, I'm not crying myself to sleep every night." I passed out drunk last night before tears surfaced, thank you very much.

He gives me a sad, knowing smile, "When it means more to you than them, there's quite a few nights you cry yourself to sleep."

I frown, "Look this isn't about heartbreak, I'm just down about the band."

He hands me a plate with eggs, toast and bacon, "Okay. But if you want to talk, I'm here. Hell, even if you want to ignore me, I'm here. Because everyone else might buy it. You're okay, you just need some time. But I've been there, and you want to push everyone away. You want to scream at whoever tries to bother you. But once you push them all away, you want someone's shoulder to cry on.... and you feel betrayed if no one shows up. If no one fights your attempts to push them away. Because then... then you feel like you really are as lousy as you think. That you're not worth the effort. And I don't want you to feel that way. I'll take your anger, and your words laced with venom. I'll help you when the need for alcohol is so strong you're puking and crying. Because to me, you're worth it."

"No one helped you..." I frown at how familiar it seems to him, "Not even Pete?"

He shrugs a shoulder, "No one really noticed until the damage was done. I'm still trying to lose the weigh my alcohol binge gave me."

"H-How did no one notice?"

"We weren't touring so everyone was busy with their own lives. Pete was dating Ashlee... but I kept in touch and hid it well until I started ignoring Pete....then ignoring everyone." He shrugs. 

"What happened?" I ask. 

He gives me a sad smile, "I'm no stranger to heartbreak."

We sit across from each other and take a bite of our food.

"If Pete knew you were heartbroken, why didn't he-"

"He didn't." Patrick says after swallowing his food, "I didn't tell him, I haven't told him. But I think he figured it out eventually."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"The same reason you're denying it. Plus, didn't want to kill his new girlfriend buzz with, by the way, your relationship is making me very unhappy because I'm kind of in love with you." His cheeks redden a little. 

My eyes widen a bit, "I knew you had a thing for him!" I cover my mouth, "Sorry. So you never told him?"

"I knew he wasn't into me, not for anything serious, so no. Why make things awkward?" Patrick shrugs, "And that's not me being hard on myself or anything. Pete has always pictured himself with a wife and kids. I can give him neither. Telling him would only cause problems. Make things awkward. And that was fine. Bottle the feelings but soak up every bit of affection from him I can get. Things started getting serious with Ash though, and the bottle I'd shoved everything I felt for him exploded. Andy knew. But he...overestimated me. He figured I needed some time to get my mind clear, he thought I could handle it maturely. He wasn't happy to find out he was wrong."

I nod, listening to him, "Are you still...into him?"

"Well he'll probably always give me butterflies, but when he told me she's the one, he's going to ask her to marry him... I decided I needed to be happy for him, our friendship was more important. Easier said than done, but I eventually got over him." He shrugs a shoulder. 

"H-How?" I look down, "I don't even know where to start."

"I wish I could help with that...I really do. But your situation is a little different, and really...only you can convince yourself it's not worth it." He frowns a little, "He's not, you know.... I mean, I feel like a dick but I'm kinda glad to be rid of him. When he wasn't with you he was hanging all over Pete and, even not being into Pete it was annoying because we'd be talking about something important and he'd shove his way into the conversation. Also, he liked to call me chubby, and he's lucky he didn't get punched."

"He's kind of an asshole unless he trusts you." I shrug a shoulder, "But he's kind of an asshole even when you've slept together so..." I sigh, "He knew how I felt... 'I don't love you, I'm just passing the time'...that hurt. Still hurts. Because it was so true. Despite knowing it I kept throwing myself at him, think one day...maybe he'd start to love me...even just a little..." I look up to him, wanting to be angry but unable to hold back a smile, "You opened up about Pete to get me to open up about Ryan. Tricky bastard."

He grins, "It worked didn't it?"

I shrug, putting my walls back up, "So, what? You're just gonna babysit me for a while?"

"I'm going to keep you company for a while." He takes the last bite, "But I thought we'd stay at my place."

"Why?"

"Because your apartment is littered with memories of Ryan. Mine isn't." He says simply.

I glance around and sigh, "I can't argue there."

He nods, "So...back to Ryan for a second..."

"Can we not talk about him?"

He nods, "Fine, but with Pete... like everyone says you shouldn't sleep around when you're heartbroken and they might be right. Helped me though... so I, I wouldn't judge."

I can't help but laugh, "Offering yourself? Or is that just the Patrick way of saying I need to get laid?"

He blushes, "I-I honesty just meant, I wouldn't judge you."

I smile, "I know, but making you blush is fun. So I can sleep around recklessly as long as I avoid drinking?"

"I-I wouldn't say recklessly... Or with strangers.."

"What about with you?" I give him a smirk.

His blush deepens, "I-I'm not helping you to get into your pants, Brendon."

"You'll be the only one around, its not as if you'd step out for a bit to let me screw someone else at your house." I keep teasing.

"I meant after you get through alcohol withdrawal! I just want to make sure you don't grab a beer when it gets to be too much. I told you, I can't help with Ryan. I know you're in pain, why would I take advantage of you?" He frowns.

"'Trick I was kidding." My god this boy is wound tight, "You need to loosen up."

He scowls at me.

"No, really, you're always so serious and stressed out. You went from one extreme to the next. Sure, you're not drinking yourself to death but you're stressing yourself to death. So fine, we'll work through my alcohol withdrawal, but we're going to find a way to loosen you up too." I cross my arms.

Patrick rolls his eyes, "Don't make this about me. I'm grumpy and stressed, that's just me. There's nothing that can be done about it."

I shrug, "If you won't let me help you, I won't let you help me."

“I don’t _need_ help.” he snaps.

“Neither do I then.”

He grits his teeth, "Fine."

I grin and pat his head, "Good Patrick."

"Do that again and during the autopsy, they'll be removing bits of your teeth from the back of your skull.

I can't help but grin, " Feisty little thing, aren't you?"

He shoves me lightly, barely hard enough to push me back, “Pack some clothes, asshole.”

I grin, “I can’t just walk around naked?”

“Hell no.” he says in a bored voice.

“It would prevent me, legally, from going to get more to drink.” I say playfully.

He rolls his eyes, “It would also be extremely awkward if my mom popped by for a visit.”

I laugh and go to my bedroom, grabbing a few outfits and pajamas. 

 

As we walk into his apartment, Patrick stumbles over a few things before finding the light switch. Aside from the many pairs of shoes right in the doorway, his place is as tidy as it can be with all of his things cluttered everywhere. There’s a keyboard in the middle of the living room, a few guitar cases against the wall, a drumkit behind the couch, and a few more instruments stored wherever he can fit them. His sink, unlike mine, isn’t overflowing with dishes. And unlike my apartment, which mainly smells like feet, his smells like lavender and, kind of like a Christmas tree. The bar that divides his living room and kitchen has a neat row of different colored candles. The walls are a light blue, meeting a clean hardwood floor. It’s a really nice apartment. Small, but nice. It’s cozy, and it feels like one of the safest places on earth. He mumbles a small apology about the mess, scurries around, straightening up, pushing the keyboard against the wall, cleaning the two dishes he had in the sink. I shake my head and set down my bags, then stand behind him in the kitchen, gently putting my hands on his shoulders. He, of course, like the tight wound guy that he is, jerks away.

I give him a small smile, “Your place is perfect compared to mine. I’m not going to leave just because you had two dishes in the sink.” I place my hands on his shoulders and gently start massaging them.

He squirms away, “Don’t, why are you doing that?”

“Because it’s relaxing, and you need to relax. You got rid of my booze, got me here without having me kick and scream like a toddler, so relax. I’m okay, you’re okay. Now let me massage your shoulders. It’ll help, I promise.”

“You don’t have t-”

“I know I don’t. But we’re working on your stress too, right? Tomorrow I’ll probably be worthless, and not much help to you at all, but right now I can help.” I gently grab his hand and pull him to the couch. He sits down awkwardly. I smile, “Lie on your stomach. I promise I won’t touch below your waist.”

He blushes, and opens his mouth to protest, before just sighing, and lying on his stomach, resting his head on a couch pillow. I straddle his hips, not putting any weight on him as I start massaging his shoulders. My god, this boy is tense.

“So, your place smells really good, and that sounds weird but it’s a nice change from mine.” I massage the back of his neck. He ‘hmmms’ in agreement. “So, tomorrow I’ll probably hate you but, I appreciate you taking time out of your life to help me. You probably have a million better things to do.”

He shakes his head, speaking in a low quiet voice, “Nothing is more important than helping a friend.”

I smile a little and move down to his shoulder blades, “You’re something else, you know? We’re not exactly close friends, and yet you’re trying your hardest to save me from myself.” he sighs softly as I massage over his shoulders again, “You’re a great guy.”

 

Mornings are completely overrated, and waking up just to vomit doesn’t make it any better. It isn’t until after even the dry heaves are over, and I decide I need a drink to take the edge off, that I remember where I am. Patrick’s apartment which probably doesn’t even have Nyquil, let alone a shot of whiskey. I groan and kick the wall. I fucking hate Patrick Stump.


	2. Hangover Day

I'm going to murder Patrick Stump.

Well, after he stops cradling me in his stupid comfortable arms, and gently rubbing my aching head. Because if it wasn't for him trashing my beer, not having Nyquil, and predicting I'd get desperate enough to search for his mouthwash, I wouldn't be in pain. I'd be blissfully numb. I'd been so loud digging through his medicine cabinets, I woke him up. Instead of the grouchy, half asleep bitching I expected, he took my hand and pulled me to his bed. I fought at first,but eventually gave up. It's difficult to scream at someone who's gently rubbing away your headache. He also had a bottle of water and aspirin ready beside the bed. I'm equally grateful and irritated that he's so thorough. Because even though I won't admit it to him, he's right. My drinking was getting out of hand. I haven't been sober in an entire week before today. Being sober though, is not all it's cracked up to be. Thinking clearly isn't as great as people seem to think. Luckily, for the moment, my head hurts enough to keep me from getting too deep into my thoughts. I'm afraid of when the aspirin kicks in.

"For the record..." He says softly, "there's such a small amount of alcohol in mouthwash, you'd have to drink tons of it to feel anything at all. And there's a reason aside from the alcohol that you aren't supposed to swallow it. I didn't hide it to piss you off, I hid it because it'd make you really sick. As for nyquil, if I get sick enough to need it, I have Pete keep up with my doses. So he usually crashes here... I don't trust myself."

"I still hate you right now." I grumble against his shoulder.

I can hear the smile in his voice, "I know. You should drink some more water.”

“Or I could take a shot and be fine.”

He snorts, “Alcohol dehydrates you, vomiting dehydrates you. What you need, is more water.”

I glance up at him, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he reaches over me and grabs the bottle of water, “Drink this. Honestly, you’ll feel way better when you do. And once we let that settle some, I’ll make you some hangover food.”

“Food sounds like the worst idea right now.” I sit up and unscrew the lid.

“I’m sure it does, and before you take a bite, the smell might make you nauseous. But, after that first bite you’ll feel amazing. Cooking isn’t a skill of mine, but I make really good breakfast good. For some reason greasy food makes the hangover go away. So for the rest of the day you’ll just be a bit achy. You think you feel bad now...Tomorrow is going to be hell. Today is easy in comparison. Getting all of that alcohol you’ve stuffed yourself full of for days is going to make your entire body hurt. I don’t suggest you try eating at all tomorrow, and only drink ice cold water. Because you will throw it all up. You’ll end up retaining some of the water, but most of it will get thrown up. Also, ice cold water is about the least painful thing to throw up. It still hurts, but it’s easier on your throat.”

I scrunch my nose, “So basically tomorrow, I’m _really_ gonna hate you.”

He laughs softly, “Pretty much. Drink the water.”

I roll my eyes, “Fine, mom.” I take a small sip, then after realizing how thirsty I am, I quickly down the rest.

“Easy.” Patrick says tensely, “Slow, gulping it down too quickly might make you sick.”

I roll my eyes, “It’s just water I’m fine.”

He bites his lip, “Just trying to help.”

“Don’t you have your own problems?” I snap, “God, you’re so pathetic you’re afraid to take Nyquil. You’re afraid of everything because you messed up one fucking time. Afraid to let me make my own choices. Do you think helping me with this is going to somehow fix you? Because it won’t. After this is all over you’re still going to have Pete babysit you when you need Nyquil, and you’re still going to be a coward! That’s why you never tried to be with Pete, because you were too afraid of being rejected. Don’t act like you were being noble, not trying to interfere with what Pete wanted for his future. You’re just fucking afraid-”

“I KNOW!” he takes in a deep breath, “I’m not trying to fix myself. I’m a pathetic coward, yes. All I’m trying to do is help a friend. I’m so sorry that I’m stupid enough to care. You want to go drink yourself to death? Fine by me.” He leaves the room, slamming the door.

I wince at the slam, covering my mouth. Guilt fills my lungs as I review the hurtful things I just said to him. Fuck. An apology isn’t going to fix this. I hug my knees. I have to apologize, but I have to make it up to him too. I sigh and hug his pillow, trying to decide the best way to let him know that I really am sorry. Before I even realize it though, I’m falling asleep.

 

I groan, feeling someone shaking my shoulder gently.

“Wake up, food.” I hear Patrick’s voice before he lets go of my shoulder.

By the time I open my eyes and sit up, he’s gone. I sigh, taking that as a sign that not all is forgiven. I slowly walk towards the living room and smell bacon. I was a complete asshole, and he made me food. Great, more guilt. He’s sitting on the couch, eating his food and watching The Breakfast Club. I sit beside him and pick up the plate of food he sat on the coffee table.

“You’re eating breakfast, watching The Breakfast Club.” I say before taking a bite.

He shrugs. I expected a laugh, a little bit of a smile, or anything that wasn’t a shrug.

I bite my lip, “Patrick I’m-”

“I know.” he takes another bite.

“No, you don’t. I’m not just saying sorry because I’m supposed to, I really am sorry.” he looks to me, picking up his piece of toast, “I said some mean and hurtful thi-mmph!” he cuts me off by shoving the piece of toast in my mouth.

“I said, I know. You’re genuinely sorry and you feel guilty. I’m just not quite over it yet.”

I chew the bite of toast before speaking, “Is there anything I can do?”

He shrugs, “Not really, but there’s a few things you shouldn’t do.” he pauses the movie and turns on the couch to face me, “Please don’t leave and drink yourself to death. I honestly didn’t mean it. And I’m not sorry for caring enough to help. So y-you’re going to just have to get over it. Because I might be a pathetic coward...but at least I didn’t turn my head when you started fucking up like everyone else.”

I bite my lip and nod, “I-I won’t leave, I…” I sigh, “As much as I want to just go home and get so drunk I can’t see straight...I know you’re right. I was, I was coping in the wrong way. Losing half of my band...all of the pain Ryan’s put me through… I tried to deal with it the easy way...but it isn’t easy because either way, I’d end up dead or in some rehab center full of strangers and I just…” I look up to him, “Thank you for at least...giving me a better option of getting through this. Even when you’re telling me I’m being stupid you’re...it’s in a loving way and not the cold offhanded way I’d get in a rehab and just...Thanks.”

He sets his near empty plate on the coffee table before putting his arm around my shoulders, “You’re welcome, and I promise, you’ll get through this. Eat your food, drink lots of water. I’ll let you pick the next movie. Today you need to relax and get plenty of sleep. Tomorrow is just going to be awful for you, and I wish we could avoid it but we can’t. So just, you’re going to hate me, but remember that I honestly just want to help.”

I nod and lightly kiss his cheek, “I know, and I’ll try to be more cooperative.”

He blushes lightly, “You won’t have much of a choice tomorrow.”

After I finish eating I curl into him, watching the rest of The Breakfast Club. After it ends I put in Pinocchio, and fall asleep quickly, with his warm arms around me, and the gentle movements of his chest rising and falling, with his breathing, against my back.

I'm really starting to enjoy falling asleep next to Patrick Stump.


	3. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the timeline of FOB's hiatus and Jon and Ryan leaving Painc is off. This is somewhere before FOB coming off hiatus, and right after Panic splitting. That's confusing, sorry. Wonky timelines all around but hey, it's fiction.
> 
> Also slight Spoilers for the episode of House that Patrick was in.

The next time I wake up, I'm no longer curled into Patrick. I pout and sit up on the couch, looking around. The DVD screensaver is bouncing from one end of the television screen to the next. I can hear Patrick's voice coming from his room.

"Mom, no. He's not my boyfriend. We're friends, okay? And he's sick and- _Mom_ no, we aren't dating."

I giggle a little and walk over to his room, standing in the doorway. 

He blushes as soon as he catches me standing in his line of vision, "And now he's awake. Mom, no you can't talk to him, he's not-"

I quickly snatch the phone, "Out of curiosity, does Patrick hide boyfriends from you often?"

Patrick groans, "Brendon!"

I hear his mom laugh softly, "I usually don't meet them."

"Well that's a shame, but Patrick's being honest, we aren't dating."

"Too bad. You don't sound very sick." She says.

"Patrick said sick to be polite, he's um.. Actually helping me through some personal issues I'm having." I smile a little, "You've probably been told this before, but you did a great job raising him."

Patrick groans, "Shut up."

She hears him and laughs, "I certainly tried. Couldn't do anything about how irritable he is, though."

I grin, "I'll give him the phone back before he has a heart attack, it was nice talking to you." I hand Patrick the phone, and go back to the living room.

As he finishes talking to his mom, I use my phone to order a pizza online. After a few minutes, he walks into the living room, and I can almost see tension dripping off of him.

"Hey.." I say softly, standing up, "Look, I didn't mean to cross a line or-" he hugs me tightly. It takes me a second to hug back, asking tentatively, "You alright?"

He buries his face into my shoulder, "I'm great."

I gently rub his back, "You sure? Because you seem kinda...not so great."

He sighs, "My mom asks of I have a boyfriend, weekly. And she doesn't mean any harm but a weekly reminder that no one's interested in me kinda blows..." He let's go and shrugs, "Sorry, its dumb."

I frown, "Have you been with anyone since getting over Pete?"

"In a relationship, no... Otherwise..." He blushes lightly, "Yeah. Um, Bob and I have a kinda...regular thing. Which isn't something my mom needs to know."

"Bob Bryar?" 

He nods.

"And you're just...friends with benefits?" I raise an eyebrow.

He blushes and nods, "Yeah. Well, except now he's seeing someone so we're um, not anymore."

"Have you had any crushes on anyone since Pete?" I ask carefully.

"No." He shrugs, "I've been busy."

"Busy sleeping with Bob, and going solo for a while... Why did you guys-"

"Now you're crossing lines." His tone is drenched in warning.

I nod and back off a bit, "Sorry. I just thought it might help to talk about."

He sighs, "Now I want to drink."

"Well, quick tip for you, don't try the mouthwash." I say softly, reaching out to take his hand, "Hey, it's alright. I didn't mean to bring up something difficult." I give his hand a gentle squeeze, "We can talk about something else, or watch another movie if you want."

He looks up to me, lacing his fingers with mine. He glances down quickly, biting his lip.

I gently place my other hand on his cheek, "Hey..." I whisper, before tilting his head up to look at me, "It's okay." 

My heart beats loudly in my chest as he places his hand right over my heart. I know he feels how fast it's pounding. After a few seconds he slides his hand up to my shoulder, then to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. He stops pulling just before our lips touch. He's giving me a choice, a way out. I'd be stupid not to take it, this could make things very awkward. His hand is trembling on the back of my neck, he's getting nervous. He's clearly never seen a mirror in his life, because he has nothing to be nervous about. And I'm obviously pretty stupid. I lean in and gently kiss his soft, warm lips. He untangles our hands, putting both his hands on the back of my neck as our lips move together. My hands find their way to his hips as his tongue swipes over the crease between my lips. As I part my lips, the doorbell rings. Patrick jumps in alarm, pulling back a bit.

"Meant to tell you..." I lean in and peck his lips, "I ordered pizza."

He nods, letting go.

I give his hips a gentle squeeze before going to answer the door. I pay for the pizza and turn to find Patrick fidgeting on the couch. I set the pizza on the coffee table and pull his fidgeting hands into my own.

"Patrick, honey breathe." I gently squeeze, "Relax."

He bites his lips and nods, getting up to get us plates. 

It isn't until we're each working on our second piece of pizza, that he says anything.

"We all had our reasons for taking a break." He says quietly, "They were mostly just because we each wanted to broaden our musical horizons... In different ways but... There's always underlying personal stuff isn't there?" He sighs and takes a bite.

"Don't I know it..." I bite my lip.

"Well like, while working on getting over Pete, we weren't as close... And we've still been kinda distant since... But like I said, I never told Pete but he eventually figured it out...and he started suffocating me. He didn't mean any harm, it was his way of telling me he still cares about me, we're still friends... But he was too close. He was poking a fresh bruise that hadn't completely healed yet." He sighs, "So I started getting defensive, shoving him off every time he hugged me, snapping at about everything he said." He shrugs, "So it was a good time as any to take a break from the band."

I nod, listening, "Well, the break could be good for all of you. As for Pete, I could honestly see myself doing the same thing in his shoes. But, I'd do the same thing in yours too. So if you're busy making yourself feel guilty, you shouldn't." 

He shrugs a shoulder, "I haven't dated anyone since Pete because I wasn't ready to get hurt again. So I slept around for a bit, then just slept with Bob until about a month ago." He looks to me, "Why'd you kiss me? I gave you an out because you're hurt and heartbroken and I didn't want to take advantage of how you're feeling. Why didn't you take it?"

I glance over to him, "I appreciate you giving me control of the situation. Kiss or not, I got to choose. And, if I had any sense I would've pulled away. Things are awkward now and I didn't want that. But I kissed you, Patrick, because your hands were starting to shake and I could feel your self esteem plummeting. But not just that. I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you. Maybe I'm just lonely, maybe its because I haven't kissed anyone in weeks, maybe I just wanted to see if your lips are as soft as they look. I don't know why, but I wanted to."

He bites his lip and nods, "Okay."

"So...why'd you kiss me?" I raise an eyebrow.

His face quickly turns red, "I dunno, cuddling kinds makes me want to make out."

I don't believe him, but I let it slide, "Well I'm not gonna stop cuddling you. I wouldn't kiss me tomorrow though."

He smiles shyly, "I just realized you're going to regret eating pizza."

"Oh trust me, I regret ordering it." I wink at him and take a bite.

He blushes, "Let's see how much you regret not getting further with me tomorrow when you hate me."

"I'll probably hate you tomorrow, true... But, tomorrow is just one day I shrug, "It'll pass."

He nods and stands up taking our plates to the sink, and putting the box of pizza in the fridge.

"I could've done that." 

He smiles, "It's fine, I was getting up anyways. I'm gonna shower. Um, you can watch any of the movies you find, or something on TV... My Netflix is logged in on the TV too if you want to find something on that."

I nod, "Okay Patrick, I'll try not to escape and go to the bar down the street."

He frowns, "Bren, please don't-"

"Honey, I was kidding. Relax. As tempting as it is, and to be honest its quite tempting..." I shrug a shoulder, "I don't want to disappoint you." I smile, "So go shower, I'll find us a movie, alright?"

He bites his lip and nods, going into the bathroom. I sit still until I hear the water turn on before getting up and going into the kitchen. I move the dishes from breakfast and lunch out of the sink and fill one side up with hot, soapy water. I hear a loud squeak from the bathroom and hurry over.

"You alright?" I ask, cracking the door.

"Y-Yeah the water got cold, are you using hot water?"

I feel my cheeks redden, "Sorry, I'm done with it now."

"Its fine."

I nod and gently close the door, going back into the kitchen. My stomach aches from puking earlier and I feel extremely weak, but I owe him. I wash the dishes in the hot water, rinse them with cold. There aren't many so I'm finished before he's out of the shower. I clean off the counters and the stove, and light his lavender and Christmas tree candles. I really like the smell of the two mixed. I sit back down as I hear the water turn off and snoop through his Netflix account. He walks out is a loose T-shirt and Batman pajama pants, towel drying his hair.

"Sorry I take sorta long showers." He glances up to the TV, "Haven't picked anything yet?"

"Actually I was waiting on you. Wanted to watch this episode of House I haven't seen yet." I say with a sly grin, "Funny though, its the only episode of the entire series you haven't watched."

His cheeks redden softly, "Got a reason for that."

"You don't want to feel like a narcissist." I say simply, "And this way you won't. I really haven't been able to watch it yet, so you're watching it for me."

He rolls his eyes and sits beside me, "Fine." 

We watch the episode, both being quiet for the most part. Occasionally I'll make a remark about how adorable he is in scrubs. At the end of the episode, where he and the girl are singing together I turn to him.

“ _Wow_ she’s not your type.”

He snorts, “Well she’s a she, so no.”

I shake my head, “Aside from that. She’s not arrogant enough for you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re totally attracted to arrogance.”

“No, I’m not.”

I smile, “No need to get defensive. But, you kinda are. Not because their confidence turns you on or anything, like it is with most people. But you like being the person to let them know when they’re going too far. You like being the person they’ll listen to.” I shrug, “But it’s more than that. You see right through the arrogance that shields how broken they really are. You’re attracted to arrogance, because you like fixing broken people.”

“I’m not trying to fix anyone.” he crosses his arms.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh really? Before yesterday when’s the last time you and I actually had a conversation, or hung out?”

“We’ve been-”

“Busy, yes.” I roll my eyes at him, “But you and I have know each other for years now. We never hang out. We’ve always been more like acquaintances. Then you somehow hear that I’m drinking too much and you just show up at my house. You mean well, of course. And I’m completely thankful that you’re helping me. You’re going to fix me, and then we’ll go back to being friends of friends.”

“You could stop shrinking me at any time.” He shrugs, “Pete told me that Spencer was really worried about you. And I got minor details. So I asked if Spencer was helping you, keeping you from hitting the Self Destruct button… And Spencer wasn’t doing anything. He said he was giving you space. And no, we’ve never been all that close. But that’s because I was busy hiding in Pete’s shadow, from everyone. And despite being younger than me, you’re intimidating. And I honestly just...didn’t want you to fuck everything up for yourself. And no one else wanted to be the person telling you when you’re going too far. Someone had to. And if you want to ignore each other after this, then fine. But its not because I want to.” He sighs, “And I’m in no way trying to replace the friendship you had with Ryan, or replace Pete with you. I just think...we could both use a friend right now.”

“In Spencer’s defence… He did have half the band break up with him too.” I shrug, “Plus when I’m down Ryan’s usually the one to…” I bite my lip.

He nods, “I know. Like I said, we could both use a friend.”

I sigh and curl into him, “Hey, so what’s up with the super small apartment? I mean, I get it’s just you and everything, but you’ve got so much stuff you have no room for. And, honestly you could just buy yourself a house.”

He smiles weakly, “A nice big house full of empty rooms? No thanks. At least this way, there’s less space so it doesn’t _feel_ so empty.”

I frown, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s fine.” he hands me the remote, “You can pick the next movie.”

 

Around three in the morning, I feel a sharp pain working it’s way up my neck. I close my eyes and curl into Patrick, falling asleep for a few minutes at a time, getting woken up by sharp throbs of pain. Before four even rolls around, I’m burying my face into Patrick’s shoulder, whimpering. He wakes up at the sound and gently kisses my forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers before getting up, leaving me alone on the bed. I press my hands against my forehead, relieving a small amount of the pain with the pressure. He walks back into the room with a bottle of water, “Sit up.” he says softly.

I slowly sit up, not moving my hand from my forehead.

“I’ll leave the light off, but you need to take a couple aspirin.”

My voice cracks, “I’ll just throw it up.”

He hands me the bottle of water, “I promise, you won’t. Drink that slowly, take the pills, and chew on this gum.” he hands me a piece of gum.

I whimper and take the two pills he gave me, before unwrapping the stick of gum and chewing it slowly. A few tears trickle down my cheeks as the throbbing gets harder. Patrick gently wipes them away.

“I’d suggest a hot shower but.. you’re shaking so I’m not sure how well you’d be able to stand.”

I sniffle, “Just, can you hug me?”

He nods, “Of course, Bren.” He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me as I cry against his shoulder. He gently rubs my head, soothing the pain a bit, “Make sure you keep chewing that gum, okay?”

I nod, sniffling again, “It hurts.”

“I-I know it does.” he says softly, holding me close, “I know, but you’ll be okay. I promise, you’ll be okay.”

In about half an hour, the aspirin kicks in, dulling the pain. But it’s still there, “I could probably stand up now.” I say quietly, “Would a hot shower help?”

“It helps when I’ve got a headache.” he says, still rubbing my head.

“I-I want to try that then...Could you stay with me, in the bathroom though? Like, just to talk to me, you can wait until I’m dressed to come in, and leave when I come out.” I bite my lip, “Please?”

He nods, “If you want me to be in there, I will be.”

I sniffle and hug him tighter, “Thank you.”

He gently rubs my back, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you don’t hate me right now...because I don’t think I’d have been able to stop myself from hugging you.”

I wipe my eyes, "Y-You're difficult to hate. I'll go get in, I'll let you know when I'm behind the shower curtain." I get off of the bed and go into the bathroom, turning on the water and undressing. I step into the tub and close the curtain, "I'm in!" I say loud enough for him to hear.

I hear the door creak open, "The trick is to make the water as hot as you can stand it, and just leave your head under it."

"Okay." I turn the nozzle, making it a little hotter before I lean my head back into the water.ck. After a few seconds the pain starts to numb. By ten seconds, it’s completely gone. I almost moan at the relief, “Fuck Patrick, I just might kiss you today.”

He laughs softly, “Just keep your head under the water.”

 

After I get out of the shower and pull on a T-Shirt and boxers, Patrick and I cuddle on the couch, watching Say Anything. Headache free, and curled into him I fall asleep fast.

My comfortableness doesn’t last long. Before the movie’s over, I’m awake and running to throw up.

I want to hate Patrick but I can’t. This is, after all, my own fault.


	4. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon walks in on Patrick during an awkward moment.

Patrick kneels beside me on the bathroom floor and gently rubs my back. As far as puking goes, gagging up cold water _is_ less unpleasant than anything else. But it still hurts. My entire body aches. The dry heaves are the worst part. It feels like my stomach is going to dislodge itself and come up my throat. At this point, I almost wish it would. I flush down the vomit and stand shakily, with help from Patrick. As I rinse out my mouth, there's loud knocking at the door. Patrick goes to answer it, after being sure I can stand on my own. As I slowly walk to the living room to return to the couch, I hear Pete.

"Please tell me you did not _actually_ kidnap Brendon."

"I didn't kidnap him." Patrick says irritably as Pete walks in.

"Don't let him lie to you." I joke weakly, voice shaking, "He left a ransom note and everything."

"You look terrible." Pete frowns.

"And your hair looks like you shaved a poodle and glued the fur to your hair." I pull Patrick's blanket around myself.

Patrick snorts and hands me another bottle of water.

I whine, "I'm just going to throw it up, mom."

"Actually.." He holds up a pill bottle, "This is Phenergan. It keeps you from vomiting. I forgot I had some left after my stomach virus a couple months ago." He opens the bottle and hands me one, "It'll make you drowsy, and after you take it you should eat something, just so its not the only thing in your stomach. If you like chicken noodle soup I'd go with that, its easy on your stomach."

I nod and take the pill, "Sounds good."

Pete raises an eyebrow, "You gave him Stockholm Syndrome."

"Shut up, no I didn't." Patrick goes to the kitchen.

"If you want to leave, blink twice." Pete whispers jokingly.

"Dude, we're good. I was reluctant to leave my apartment and get sober, but he didn't tie me up and throw me into his trunk. He's actually a lot of help with all of this... And, he's not bad company." I shrug, "Plus he's right, I was spiraling down into something dangerous."

Pete sighs, "Well I'm glad he stepped in."

I smile a little, "Me too."

Patrick walks back in holding a bowl carefully with both hands, and a package of crackers wedged between his arm and his side. He sets down the bowl and crackers on the coffee table without spilling or dropping anything.

"I would have had to go back for the crackers, impressive." I smile at him, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiles.

"You should see him do it on a moving tour bus, I was _sure_ he'd drop everything." Pete grins.

Patrick rolls his eyes and takes a cracker.

I finish the soup, and then the drowsiness kicks in. I curl up on the couch, resting my head on Patrick's thigh.

 

When I wake up, his thigh has been replaced with a pillow, Pete is gone and the lights are off. I sit up slowly, feeling an ache in every muscle required to do so. I basically slept through the whole day, but I can't think of anything better to do than crawl into bed beside Patrick and go back to sleep. I walk down the dark hallway and carefully open his door. I assumed he'd be asleep in bed, but I can see the light coming from his bathroom door, and hear the shower running. I shrug and climb onto the side of the bed I've been sleeping on, pulling the blanket over me. I can hear his voice, but I can't make out what he's saying. I guess he sings in the shower. I listen closer and blush instantly. That isn't singing, its moaning. I should stop listening. I should definitely not be moving closer to the wall. I press my ear against the wall, hearing his heavy breathing, his whimpers and his moans. I bet he’d enjoy it more if I helped out. No. I can’t do that. I bite my lip and move away from the wall. I should probably go back to the couch to sleep and pretend I didn’t hear him. I sit up, noticing a change of clothes on the foot of his bed. He didn’t expect me in here, so why bother changing in the bathroom? I should definitely go and give him his privacy...or I could see him come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. A particularly loud moan seeps through the wall, letting me know he’s finished, and making my spine tingle. I push aside the fact that I’m now turned on and wait for him to get out. After a few minutes I hear the water turn off.

He walks out, with a blue towel wrapped around his hips. Without noticing me first, he flips on the light, looks over and squeals.

“Fuck, Brendon!” he grabs his clothes and hurries back into the bathroom while I double over in laughter. After about a minute he walks out dressed in his pajamas, “A warning would’ve been nice.” he snaps.

“Sorry, damn.” I cross my arms, “I didn’t realize when I came in here to sleep you’d be touching yourself, _and_ walk out in only a towel.”

His face turns bright red, “Y-You heard that?”

I blush lightly, “Kinda hard not to.”

“And instead of leaving the room and pretending it didn’t happen like a normal person, you decided, Hey I’ll just wait here on the bed and casually mention I heard it?” 

I shrug a shoulder, “Pretty much.”

He groans, “Look I’m sorry, that’s like rude and awkward but you were asleep in a different room I wrongly assumed it was safe.”

I shake my head, grinning, “I eavesdropped on you masturbating, and _you’re_ apologizing.”

“Eavesdropped? What so you just sat here and intentionally listened?” he fidgets.

“I thought you were singing in the shower at first.” I shrug again, “And dude walking from the living room to here hurt enough. I wasn’t walking back.”

He groans and covers his face, “Great. Well, goodnight.” He flips off the light and walks out of the room, slamming the door.

I sigh and get off the bed, following him into the living room, “Patrick, look it’s no big deal.”

“It’s actually extremely mortifying for me, glad you aren’t going to lose sleep over it though.” he plops onto the couch and covers up.

I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of the couch beside him, “I’m saying you have nothing to be embarrassed about. So, you jacked off in the shower. So what? I’ve done that like a million times.”

“Did someone sit there and listen to you?” he snaps.

“I’m sorry alright. But if I got off of the bed I couldn’t have guaranteed I’d come back into the living room instead of trying to join you in the shower so I didn’t move!” I blush deeply and stand up, “Yeah, goodnight.”

He grabs my wrist, “Just to make this all even more awkward...I probably wouldn’t have shoved you out of the shower if you did.”

“Probably?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Well, you know…” he shrugs a shoulder, “There’s a chance I’d have freaked out and shoved you. But I would’ve apologized and if you weren’t injured in any way… let you in.” the pink blush on his cheeks brightens.

I sit back down, “Is this your way of saying that I could’ve gotten off too?”

He smiles weakly, “Something like that.” he gets up, “But I’m actually kind of done with casually sleeping around.” he shrugs a shoulder, “I kinda want something real, at the risk of another drinking binge, but whatever.” he bites his lip, “I’ll get you some more aspirin, you’ve been asleep long enough to take more and you said you were in pain.” he goes back into the bedroom.

I frown and take a sip of water. Did he mean he wants more than casual sex in general, or more with me? And what’s with us anyways? We made out once, I wanted to join him in the shower. He’s cute but he’s not my usual type for meaningless sex. So what the hell do I want? Patrick walks back over and hands me two aspirin. When his hand gently touches mine, warmth spreads through my chest. Fuck. I’m still dealing with Post Traumatic Ryan Disorder, I can’t deal with warm fuzzies for another friend right now. I take the pills and bite my lip.

“So tomorrow I should be okay, right?” I glance over at Patrick, “Like, able to function and all?”

Patrick nods, “You’ll still be a bit sore, but for the most part you’ll be fine.”

I set the water bottle down on the coffee table, “Alright good, then I can get out of your hair.” I avoid his eyes.

I can hear the frown in his voice, “Bren, tomorrow you’ll feel better but you’re not in the way or anything, you can stick around if you want.”

I shake my head, “No, I need to get rid of Ryan’s things, right? Maybe if he pollutes my apartment less, he’ll pollute my mind less.”

“I could help if-”

“Patrick, I’ve got it, okay?” I cut him off, “I appreciate it, I really do. But, it’s something I need to do on my own. And I promise, I’m not going to drink to get through it. You can even call hourly to make sure I’m not drinking.”

He sighs, “Alright, but please if you feel like drinking call me.”

I give him a small smile, “Pinky promise.” I hold out my pinky.

He smiles back and wraps his pinky around mine.

 

I’m an asshole. As soon as Patrick fell asleep I left, leaving a note on the fridge. But Ryan is flooding my apartment and even from the distance at Patrick’s, it was starting to drown me. I clear out all of his clothes from my closet and dresser, throwing them into a trash bag, and being sure to stain and/or rip most of it. I cut a pair of his skinny jeans into shreds and toss the pieces into the bag, before squirting ketchup on one of his shirts, throwing that in as well. I scratch his DVDs and CDs that he’s left over, tossing them carelessly into the trash bag with the clothes. I smash his coffee mug against the side of the counter before putting the pieces in. I toss in an opened container of expired yogurt just for the fun of it. As I’m tying off the bag, my phone rings in my pocket. I answer quickly.

“Hey ‘Trick I’m still sober, and I’m an asshole for leaving without saying bye. Sorry, I had to get his crap out of my apartment.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Amazingly, in fact I just finished. Well, I have to drop it off at his place, but the packing is done.”

He laughs softly, “And how much of it is ruined?”

I fake a gasp, “What kind of a man do you take me for?” I laugh a little, “If there’s one thing in here that isn’t ruined, I’d be surprised.”

He pauses for a second before asking, “Do you want me to come with you, when you drop it all off?”

Yes, fuck yes. I can’t do this. I can’t face him on my own right now.

“No, it’s fine.” I lie, “I’ve got this.”

I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m going to see him and feel worthless and cry.

“Even over the phone, you’re a terrible liar.” Patrick says softly, “But I understand wanting to do it on your own. But if you want, I could ride along with you, stay in the car while you give him everything back and be moral support when you get back to the car.”

I smile softly, “Could you?”

“Of course, Bren. Or hey, better yet? I could punch him in the face!”

I giggle, “Tempting as that is, he isn’t worth the bruising his cheekbones would give your fist.”

He sighs, “Fine I won’t punch him...unless you change your mind because I will always be on board for that.”

“I’ll let you know the second my mind changes.” I say playfully, “So I’m actually ready to go…”

“Oh, well just let me get shoes and I’ll be right over, okay?” 

“Okay...see you in a few?”

“See you.” he hangs up.

I bite my lip. I can’t do this. I can’t see him. I can’t handle the way he looks at me, like I’m nothing. I can’t do this sober.


	5. Appropriate Chapter Title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon gives Ryan his things back.

There's a liquor store right down the street. If I leave right now, I can get there and back before Patrick gets here. Patrick. Fuck. He'd know instantly. Because I'd act guilty or I'd just cave and tell him. Fuck it, I don't care. I pull on a jacket before groaning and pulling it back off. Did the last few days teach me nothing? I'm still in pain, and my god I don't want to go through it all again. I know he'd ask me to, and I seem to have trouble saying no to him. I promised I'd call if I wanted to drink. I really need him to talk me out of it because I've already subconsciously pulled the jacket back on. I dial his number quickly.

"Hey Bren, I'm almost there." 

"Great, because first of all, I hate your existence right now. Secondly, I want to drink before dealing with Ryan but because of _you_ I can't."

"Back to hating me, I see." His voice is light and playful, and not at all the strict and serious tone I was expecting, "Trust me, you wanna see him freaking out about his ruined things sober."

I groan and pull off the jacket in frustration, "I don't want to feel, Patrick. I don't want to feel the cold ache in my chest when I see him. Because I was nothing to him, just an idiot willing to be used. I was so desperate for love I went to the worst possible person for it, knowing he wasn't interested. But he's so stupidly beautiful and his stupid smile melted my stupid heart."

"Hey, calm down. I'm here okay? I'll be right inside." He hangs up. A few seconds later he knocks.

I quickly open the door and pull him into a bone crushing hug, "I-I can't do it."

He gently rubs my back, "Yes you can.".

I sniffle, " N-No I really can't face him."

He hugs me tighter, "You can, but if you don't want to today, that's fine, Bren. You don't have to. I could take his stuff over of you want, okay? Or you can just put it all in a dumpster."

I bury my face in his shoulder, "I want him to have hope that he's getting all his things back, and I want to see the look on his face when it's all ruined."

He laughs softly, "I can't say I blame you. If you really want to, I'll go with you."

I nod against his shoulder, "Afterwards can we go to your place?"

He presses a light kiss against the top of my head, "Of course."

 

By The time Patrick pulls up to Ryan's, I'm not afraid to face him, I'm pissed. I get out, dragging the trash bag full of his things on the ground behind me. With one hand I bang on the door, and with the other I keep hitting the doorbell. The door swings open.

"What the f-Brendon." Ryan rolls his eyes, "What? You need backup?" He nods to Patrick standing behind me.

"No, Patrick's here to make sure I don't break your face, while trying to keep from breaking your face himself." I hit his knee with the trash bag as I swing it in front of me, "Here's your shit."

"Oh good I planned on getting it tomorrow, this saves me from sleeping with you out of sympathy again." Ryan says in a bored voice.

Patrick lunges forward, and I gently pull him back.

"Its fine." I tell him.

Ryan snorts and starts opening the back, his eyes widen, "What the fuck!?" He pulls out shreds of his jeans.

"Here's a tip for you, if you're going to break someone's heart, get your stuff first." I grin.

"Here's a tip for you, try not to fall in love with everyone that let's you blow them." He snaps.

Patrick clenches his fists, “You fucking-”

I gently squeeze his shoulder, “It’s alright. Let’s go, alright?”

He nods, “Yeah. But first,” he swings his fist, hitting Ryan right on the nose. There’s a cracking noise as Ryan doubles over in pain, blood spilling through his fingers covering his nose.

“What the hell?” Ryan whines, muffled by his hands.

"You're going to die alone. And you might think that you're too good for anyone, but you need to deflate your ego. You're a self important, narcissistic, pretentious loser and you won't find anyone else willing to search for what little good in you there is." Patrick clenches his fists again.

I grab Patrick's shoulders, pulling him a few steps back, "Breathe, okay? Let's go."

"Fine." Patrick kicks the trash bag before walking with me to his car.

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, not speaking until we're a few blocks away, "I'm sorry, but he really deserved that." 

I can't help but laugh, "Why are you apologizing? That was amazing!"

He blushes lightly, "He deserved worse. It was tempted to run him over."

I grin, "Calm down, I think you sufficiently defended my honor."

"Sh-Shut up."

"Seriously, thank you." I look over at him, "The fact that the things he said made you angry enough to probably break his nose, makes it easier for me not to feel horrible about it. I don't feel like I deserved it, since you obviously didn't." I shrug.

"You didn't." He says quietly.

"So I'm done hating you, for now. Because despite having to see Ryan, I feel way better than I have the last few days. I'll be honest though, it's difficult not to get drunk so I’m glad you said I could stay with you tonight. But I need to be honest about why I left. It was a little about needing to get Ryan's stuff out of my apartment. But it was mostly because I just felt overwhelmed. I'm still kinda messed up over Ryan, and then there's you." I shrug a shoulder.

"Me?"

"Yes you. The only person who was worried enough to help me. Not that I was aiming for attention, I was content drinking until I couldn't feel. But I knew I was risking my health, and I didn't even care, but you did. I know other people worried and whatever but you did something about it. It doesn't help that you're cute, funny, nice, and you just broke Ryan's nose for upsetting me. I think I'm starting to have feelings for you and I kinda have a feeling you're into me but I don't know. If you do, you're not making a move, well besides when we made out, and then its because you're worried I'm not ready for a relationship and maybe I'm not. But I know I feel a million times better when I'm with you. And I know I want to kiss you again. But I'm not up for being used. So if we're going to make out again, that requires an actual relationship. But I'd also like to just hang out and watch TV and I'm cool with being friends, minus benefits. Now that I've dissected myself in front of you, its your call."

Patrick pulls into the driveway and clears his throat, “Well uh, I didn’t expect that. But, but okay. Mind if we get inside before I dissect myself?”

"So high maintenance." I sigh playfully before getting out of the car.

We walk to his apartment quietly. He unlocks the door, flipping on the light before standing back and holding the door open for me. I mumble a thanks and walk in, sitting down and mentally preparing myself for the 'let's just be friends' that I thought I could handle.

He sits beside me, "So, my call, huh?"

I nod, turning to sit sideways on the couch, facing him, “The decision is yours.”

“What if later on you don’t like my decision?” he bites his lip.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Stop stalling.” I cross my arms.

He shrugs a shoulder, “Alright then.” before leaning in and kissing my lips softly. I grin against his lips before kissing back, tugging him closer by his shirt. After a few seconds he pulls back, “Did that answer your question?”

I bite my lip and smile, “It did, but I was promised a dissection.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “You’re annoying, you’re way too hyper, you _listened_ to me masturbate, you threw up on my favorite blanket, you never shut up, you manage to dislike yourself and have an ego bigger than a house at the same time, you hate me half the time, you failed to mention you ordered pizza which totally killed the makeout session, you have bed hair that never fails to make you look like a mad scientist, you destroyed everything the last guy left at your house….How could I resist?” he grins, “Plus you’re kinda cute.” he pecks my lips, “And you could have just left at any time, went home and got drunk, but you didn’t. You bitched and moaned about it, but you stayed. You also did the dishes the other night, I don’t think I said thanks, so thanks.”

I blush and bite my lip, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Completely sure.” he laces our fingers.

“What if you’re not sure about it later on?” I look up at him.

“We’ll cross that bridge when/if we get there.” he says softly before pressing his lips against mine.


End file.
